As you wish
by Cassielady
Summary: When changes come to Gillian's llife, how will Cal adjust?
1. Chapter 1

Not sure

Something was off. It was 7am, and Dr. Gillian Foster sat at her desk rubbing her temples as she tried to focus on the task at hand. She had meant to finish the presentation for some important perspective clients last night at home, but the headache that had taken permanent residence in her head had prevented her. She had fallen asleep on her couch, so when she woke at 5 am this morning, she rushed to the office to get a head start. But again she was having the same trouble focusing. She was starting to believe that maybe Lightman had been right, that maybe she should seek further medical attention for her concussed brain. But really, what was the doctor going to tell her? The same thing he'd said before: headaches, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, fatigue, light-sensitivity, all are expected symptoms. They would subside in a few weeks. No, she just had to soldier on, and try to rest as much as the demands of her job allowed.

"Oi, Foster! What in the devil are you doing here at this early hour!" He immediately felt bad when he saw how much his loud unexpected voice startled her, and how much it magnified the ringing pain in her head.

"I'm sorry Luv. Here I am trying to look out for you, and I'm only making it worse" he said as he touched her lightly on the shoulder, seeing how she rubbed her temples and struggled to conceal her discomfort.

"I say again. I have a concussion Cal, I'm not disabled." She sounded more irritated than she had meant to. To soften things a bit she immediately added "to quote a very wise man 'stop smothering'" with her best attempt at a genuine Fosterly smile. He was not convinced by the brave face she put on. The same brave face she had been putting on for the last three days. He still felt guilty that his recklessness had gotten her hurt. While he was off on one of his adrenaline-seeking chases, she'd been forced to go on her own to conduct an interview, resulting in her getting surprised in the stairwell of the office building with a massive blow to the head. He'd tried to make it up to her since then, bringing her chocolate ice cream, lowering the lights to the entire office, and imposing quiet hours on the staff to help her injured brain heal. He had tried to convince her to take some time off. 'Rest is, after all, the best thing one can do for a concussion' he'd often told her, only to have her dismiss him with comment about how he can't be trusted alone in the office.

"What _are _you doing here so early luv?" He asked her with a concerned look. "It's bad enough you insist on coming to work, but must you even come in early?" He said as he sat across from her.

"I repeat. I'm fine Cal. It's not that bad. I'm already feeling better than I did three days ago." _Lie, lie, lie_, he thought. How to approach this? Stubborn as she is, she was not making things easy for him. So, he just slumped in his chair, exhaling with a pout of resignation that spoke millions more about his concern, his guilt, and his need to take care of her than anything his mouth uttered.

Noting this, she felt bad, and said, "really Cal. The headaches _are _better. You don't have to make the whole office tip toe around me and treat me with kid gloves." At first it was nice, the whole staff waited on her hand and foot, bringing her sweets, dimming the lights, etc. But the best part of it was that they were all on their best behavior. Everyone had orders to get things done smoothly and quietly, and to keep her stress levels down. _Why can't they always be this good? _she wondered. Particularly Cal. If usually he was the first to instigate confrontations, to create awkward situations with clients, and to send the staff's stress rocketing through the roof, now he a model citizen. He was doing everything in his power to help her work through this concussion. Too much, even. But she had to admit, she found it endearing.

"Define better," he said unconvinced. "Are you still feeling dizzy and nauseous?" he asked her as matter-of-factly as he could. It was a rare sight, Cal Lightman asking questions out of nothing more than genuine concern, trying his mightiest not to be invasive. As she pondered how best to answer without worrying him, he gathered that the answer was 'no.'

_Damn. My poor battered brain doesn't stand a chance against him, _she thought as she merely readjusted in her chair. "Still vomiting?" he asked unable to mask his hopefulness. Again, the answer was not what he'd hoped.

_Damn. I did this to her._ Noticing the effect her condition was having on Cal, she had no idea how to assuage his guilt. Now it was her turn to slump down in resignation. They sat slumped on their chairs for a while, mirror images, with the table and a gulf of unspoken emotions between them. He finally broke the silence. "Look, at least let me finish the report and handle the presentation on my own today." Noticing that her answer was going to be no, he continued immediately. "Knowing you, you probably have it nearly done." Then he added "_pretty please_" with that pathetic and crooked smile of his. _Gets her every time. _A few seconds later he realized it wasn't defeat he had seen on her face. In a flash she bolted to the nearest bathroom.

"Knock knock." He said as he gingerly made his way into the dark women's room several minutes later, water-filled glass in hand. He found her sitting on the floor by the sink, her back pressed against the cold tiles, face turned toward the ceiling, and eyes shut. He sat next to her and handed her the glass. Not knowing what else to say or do, he gently patted her on the leg to let her know he was right there, giving her a chance to collect herself.

"I guess you're right. I'm of no use here like this. I should go home." He was about to stand up, saying "right then, I'll take you home," but her hand against his thigh stopped him, "there's no need Cal. I can drive myself. Besides, the presentation is not finished, that's all on you now," she said.

Just as she finished her sentence Ria Torres walked into the restroom and flashed three consecutive emotions: surprise, amusement, concern. Never in her life would she have expected to come into _this room_ of all places, and find her bosses in such an awkwardly tender moment. She was also amused by their indifference to being found in such a state, it was as if Ria were not even there, like they were the only two people in the planet. After these fleeting thoughts, Ria finally realized that Foster's condition might have deteriorated, and she grew concerned.

Looking at Lightman, she asked "is she okay?" Letting out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, Lightman exhaled "that's is the question, now isn't Luv?" without moving an inch, and looking first at his protégé, and then at his partner.

His partner could care less what the other two people in the room were saying. The cold tiles felt nice. She wanted to just sit there and bask in the pleasant sensation of silence, the darkness, and coolness surrounding her body. But she knew she had to respond to him soon, or he and the younger woman would soon worry.

Her eyes still closed, she could sense the worried look being fired in her direction. "I give up. I'm going to see my doctor now. You can both stop looking at me like that," that agitated tone had found its way back. She didn't have to open her eyes to know they had both smiled and exhaled a with sigh of relief. "But, on one condition. You two must stay here and finish the presentation. Make sure all the t's are crossed and the i's are dotted," she said without opening her eyes.

"Absolutely boss. You have our word. We will hold ourselves to the highest standards. Foster Standards." Ria's comment incited a slight chuckle from each of her bosses.

"Right then. Can you stand up?" He looked at her as he put his arm around her.

"I hate you" was the only response he received from his partner who still sat there with her eyes shut. Although her words were harsh, the tone of her voice was lost, it had lost all of the tension it'd had earlier, indicating that she needed more time, but that she was well enough to tease him.

No one moved. "Presentation. Now. Go. Promise to keep, and all that," It took Ria a few seconds to realize that she was being addressed and shewed off. "The file is open on Foster's computer," he added as he further insisted in her prompt disappearance. Ria was gone in no time. And 4 minutes late, Foster asked him to help her up. Before allowing her to drive off, Cal had made sure she had made and appointment to see her doctor, that she drank water, and that she was okay to drive. "Keep me posted" was the last thing he said to her as she came into the lab to announce she was leaving.

"I will," she said. And the added, "make me proud," and she was off with that beautiful Foster smile he loved missed so much.


	2. Chapter 2

It was midmorning, Cal Lightman presided over the presentation for an important law firm that Gillian had been preparing. She called it "base pay" and, even though were Lightman was mostly oblivious to these types of contracts, perhaps because they bored him, it was the bread and butter of all things Lightman Group. Foster had been working hard on landing these types of accounts, it was her efforts, and this type of business clients that had gotten them out of the red and inching the Lightman Group back to its former glory, both financially and in terms of its reputation among prospective clients.

He never had much of business mind. But even though he recognized the importance of these accounts and openly thanked and credited Foster with saving his British arse and the company, it was not these considerations that kept Lightman in his best professional behavior throughout this meeting. No, it was the fact Gillian was ill, that he was responsible for her present state, and that he owed it to _her. _He did his best to mask the guilt he felt from his employees. But they were no fools.

Although they were thankful for the respectful, no-nonsense Cal Lightman in full professional demeanor that currently presided over the meeting, Loker and Ria Torres couldn't help but to feel bad for the guy. The clients were impressed, but it was obvious both to Cal and to his employees that the clients were more comfortable working with Dr. Foster. They didn't land the account just yet. But they could tell that as long as they had an assurance that Dr. Foster would be more involved in working with them, it was a done deal. Hands were shaken, the absence of Dr. Foster was again excused, and promises were made that _she _would be the one to follow up as soon as her family emergency allowed. As Cal was walking back to his office he dialed his partner.

"No signs of concussion complications. My symptoms are annoying but expected." She said as she answered the phone. No signs of hesitation or deception. _Good._ "How did the meeting go?" she asked him, knowing full-well her question would not be answered immediately. "Where are you?" he asked her. "Still at my doctor's office, but leaving as soon as my blood work confirms that there is no infection. Now answer my question. Were you good?" As his voice came through she could tell he was smiling, "yeah, my best behavior, but they want to be assured that they will be working with you. So my advice is, if you really want the account, touch base with them as soon as possible." _Good,_ she thought. But, before placing that call, she was still going to contact Ria and Loker to make sure things went as smoothly as Cal claimed.

"You make me so proud. I'll call them today" she could not help but the mockingly parental tone. It was too much fun teasing him that way.

"Okay, but really, take the rest of the day off and I promise I'll stay in my best behavior."

"Tell you what, I'm going to call the kids, if they confirm your version of how the meeting went, I'll call the clients and then call it a day."

"Good. Now let me get back to work. Someone has to work around here." He heard her chuckle before they said goodbye and hung up.

Foster was pleased to hear the Loker and Ria report on the meeting. She quickly called the clients and knew it was in the bag. Smiling, she hung up her phone before her doctor came back in with her blood work. Noting the smile on her practitioner's face, Gillian was already imagining how she would spend her free day: chocolate ice cream, the couch, and a good novel. As she felt her head throb she thought, _well, maybe not the novel. Maybe just ice cream and a nap. _

It was now nearing the end of the work day when Lightman's phone dinged with a text. It was from Gillian. "_Long and boring day. Hoping for some company for dinner. Should I call the next guy in line?" _it read. Smiling, he texted back "_Don't cook. I'll bring dinner and ice cream_" after all, she was supposed to be taking it easy. "_Deal. 7pm. It had better be chocolate_." Good how that woman made him smile. He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. She was okay, she really was on the mend.


	3. Chapter 3

He was 20 minutes early. Of course he was early. But, knowing him like she did, she knew he would arrive early to catch her off guard and make it easier to read her. And, knowing him like she did, she was ready, defenses up and drink in hand. She even pretended to be getting dressed, just for the added effect. Cal Lightman had absolutely no idea how many times Gillian Foster had played him just for kicks. He thought she was open book, a bad liar, an easy read. And just to amuse herself she let him believe whatever he wanted, throwing in a few gestures here and there that would confirm his mis-readings. This was how she handled him, it's how she managed to keep her cool, and her sense of humor despite his abrasiveness. He knew so much less than he thought he did about Gillian Foster.

"You're early," she said faking annoyance at being caught unprepared. She helped him with the bags he was carrying and then added, "help yourself to some wine while I finish getting dressed" using her own wineglass to point in the direction of the kitchen. He guessed the day rest had done wonders for her, _she feels well enough to have a drink, _he thought to himself. He even surmised that she had been able to stop taking the painkillers, since Gillian Foster would _never_ mix alcohol with medications. Satisfied with his findings thus far, he pranced over to kitchen to first pour himself his own glass, and then start serving dinner.

She took exactly eight minutes to come back downstairs, she looked refreshed, happy even. _Wait, but was there also a quick flash, of fear, or sadness? Nope, definetly happiness._ She knew he was reading her, and she tried to distract him by bringing his attention back to their meal. They soon sat down to eat. As they were starting dinner she explained to him that she had called the client, and that they had called back soon afterward to confirm that they were indeed willing to sign a contract. _There it is, the source of the happiness_, he thought. He congratulated and her, and thanked her.

"No really Gill, God knows what we'd be doin' if it weren't for you business acumen. I would be lost for certain." She smiled a brilliant Foster smile, raised her glass in silence, and they touched their glasses.

"Have you stopped taking painkillers then?" He was not sure what to make of the frown he gave her. It was something between a playfull '_don't ruin my fun'_ frown and a more serious '_don't pry Cal, I'm not ready to talk about it'_ frown. Either she was throwing mixed signals, or his guilt exacerbating his usual inability to read his blind spot. _Damn, I'm off my game tonight, _he thought. So they continued to discuss plans for how the new wave of cases was to be handled. 'Discuss' is an overstatement, well before today she had already formulated detailed plan for who was going to handle these cases and how. Of course it was all news to him, but he didn't care, she was telling him now, and this was after all, her thing. Listening to her talk, he started to feel more relaxed and having less doubts about his reads, he told himself, _a business dinner, that's why she wanted me here_. So he gave into the ease and comfort of these types of exchanges, his concern and guilt steadily decreasing as the conversation then drifted into more casual conversation topics.

Just as she was finishing her first glass, and he was well into his third, they moved into her living room for dessert. Of course he had brought chocolate ice cream. She was enjoying her treat when he noticed that her headache had returned.

His concern quickly deepened as he saw her face flash a multitude of emotions in rapid succession that he had never noted in his partner: fear, doubt, fear, happiness, wait no, sadness, no, doubt. _What the hell! _

"I can't keep up love, whatever it is that's going on with you, your face is dragging me a along a rollercoaster, and to be frank, its scaring me." Both were surprised by the raw honesty in his statement. Cal Lightman did not easily admit doubt or weakness, or defeat. In that statement, he did all three.

She took a deep breath. In part relieved at the chance to finally say it. She opened her mouth, but nothing came. She tried again, nothing. He was being patient, he had no choice. His partner needed to get something out that was clearly difficult. He had never seen her struggle this hard to figure out how to proceed with _anything_. And it scared him. The concern he'd carried the past three days suddenly threatened to explode within him. But he _had _to give her time to collect herself, to let out whatever it was that was doing this to her.

"Luv, you're worrying me," he said finally, he'd only been able to contain himself for just over one minute. "Try starting with one word, and building on that," he said, quoting a snooty shrinkish remark she'd made to him on more than one occasion.

She took another deep breath. She was not even sure where the voice came from, but yes, it was definetly her voice, uttering those words. "I'm pregnant." There. Two words.


	4. Chapter 4

And there it was. The first time she'd ever seen Cal Lightman at loss for words. She was fascinated. His confusion lasted what seemed like an eternity to her, and she found it amusing. So much so that she did not want to break the spell. The awkwardness she felt at seeing a silent and confused Cal Lightman finally won out, so she broke the silence.

"I like this deer-before-headlights look on you. It's very becoming" she finally said, not knowing what else to say.

"Burns? " was all he could muster. She nodded.

"But, luv, how, I mean…Don't. I _know how, _but. It's just, I thought…I mean, help me out here luv," he finally begged. He could tell she was really amused by having caught him so off guard and having turned him into a blubbering mess.

"I'm just as shocked as you are," she said as she settled in her seat. "After I hung up with you this morning, my blood work came back, and, knowing my history, my physician confirmed the pregnancy with an ultrasound. I still don't think I fully believe it"

An ultrasound, so, she's even seen it. He sat there dumfounded. It's so difficult to imagine, Gillian, with child. _Carrying _a _biological _child of her own. Despite himself, a genuine smile escaped him, it was the sweetest smile she'd ever seen on his face. And she smiled in turn, he was genuinely happy for her. How could he not be? She's longed for this for so long, and after everything she's been through, no one deserves it more than her.

"Bloody hell, luv, he really is Captain America." She couldn't help but to chuckle at his Captain America comment. "And how on earth is it that _you_ be so calm and collected?" he finally asked her as she took another sip of her glass… "and why the hell would you be drinking wine?" he added, registering that his partner was imbibing alcohol.

And there it was, her evil smile. He could tell she had be anticipating this moment.

"It's grape juice Cal," she said as she placed the glass under his nose for a sniff, before broking into the most adorable giggle.

She was having too much fun with this. His mind was racing with questions, with concerns, with how to process and react to her fears, and here she was toying with him. He couldn't keep up with her. He knew this was too serious and painful a topic for Gillian for this to just be an elaborate joke, but her playful demeanor was really throwing him off balance. And then it him, _she's got to be worried out of her mind_. This is how she's dealing with the very real possibility that she may lose this one too. She has to make light of it, otherwise this has the potential to overwhelm her.

"Funny, very cute, and very mature," he said pretending to be hurt, he figured he'd help her out in maintaining whatever emotional distance she needed to navigate through this.

"So, how are you going to tell Burnsy? I mean, he's got to be up to his neck in some risky undercover operation. Are you planning to contact his DEA nanny and have him pulled out of assignment?" Knowing Gillian, he knew she would play it safe, both in terms of not telling _anyone _until she was farther along, and in how she handled the situation with the DEA family liason that could have David pulled out of his current assignment. But he still had to ask, if only to get her more comfortable with the idea of being pregnant, he thought it might somehow help it sink in, make it more real.

"I might contact Agent Williams, his nanny, as you say, to help me asses David's present undercover situation. But I won't initiate any direct contact with David just yet…"

SO much doubt and fear hung in those last two words. The fear and hesitation was all over her face now. Although they never really talked much about it, he knew she'd been through so much trying to become a mother: he suspected she and Alec had tried many things, and that their hopes had been lifted, only to be bitterly disappointed. And then there was Sophie, the little girl from Delaware she and Alec had adopted only to have her ripped from their lives when the birth mother changed her mind.

"Cal..."

Sensing that she was about to open up about that painful subject, he stopped her, "you don't have to tell me this luv, I know its very painful for you."

"I want to. After all this time, I'm ready to tell you."

"Okay" he leaned in to let her know he was listening intently.

"It's not the first I conceive, Alec and I, it happened once. We were on top of the world Cal. We had been told it was nearly impossible. Cal, I had cancer as a child. Brain cancer. I beat it. But the radiation and chemo treatments in children, as you know, often result in infertility. Eggs are destroyed, the uterus is compromised."

Cal was overwhelmed with how clinical and distant her language was, as if she wasn't talking about herself. But he was also overcome with the feeling that he really didn't know his partner. He let her continue.

"Alec knew this when he married me. We knew we wanted to have a family, so we agreed that we would adopt. When we least expected, I got pregnant. We were overjoyed. We _never _imagined biological parenthood was a possibility for us. But I lost it in the second trimester. This was before you and I met. Knowing that we had conceived naturally once opened us to the possibility that we should try in vitro. We did. I was never able to conceive again. It was a long and painful process. We had just given up when you and I met. The rest, Sophie, you already know. So, as you can imagine Cal, I have to be really careful. I can't ask Dave to give up his assignment, to jeopardize whatever undercover operation he's in, his life even, unless I'm sure…"

Cal could tell she had so much more to say, but that she did not dare to say it. He could tell that she was stuck at stalemate. She could not bare the thought of loosing another child, but she also found it impossible to imagine that this blessing would be granted to her. He heard her start to cry, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"There, there. You be as much of a cry baby about this as you need to," he said in an attempt to pull her out of the dark place her mind had gone to. "Luv, you don't have to figure this one out in one day, much less at this moment. Take your time to digest the news. Take your time to asses Dave's situation, and take your time in processing…all of this." He, too, was finding it difficult to use the word 'parenthood' in regard to Gillian, so again he made light of the situation. "You're to dammed responsible, be more like me. Took me ages for it to sink that I was dad, took me even longer to start acting like one. About 8 years, I think."

"I'd say you never started acting like one. It's more like Em caught up to you and _she _started to behave like the parent."

"You see. There's all sorts of ways to do this. Don't carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, give yourself time."

"That's part of why I invited you here."

"Huh?'

"The office. I don't want the news to get out. Torres and Loker will no doubt figure out I'm hiding something. They'll dig, they'll see things, and they might just figure me out. I need to keep this private Cal. If I…" He knew exactly what she meant, what she couldn't bring herself to say. "I need to be able to be private about this." He understood her need to be reassured that she would be able to keep her loss private, to keep her pain private, so he just hugged her as she cried.

"Shhh, don't talk like that Luv. You need to be positive, you know, studies have been done that have proven a direct correlation between positive attitude and positive outcome. You of all people Gill, as a psychologist, should that."

"Cal, I can't let optimism blind me to what I know about how my body was damaged by chemo. But you're right. I'll aim for cautiously optimistic."

"Something tells me you've got the 'cautiously' part down, and that the 'optomistic' will come harder," he said, still hugging her tight.

Sniffing, she looked up at him and said: "thanks Cal. I couldn't do this without you."

"What? Keep secrets, lie. Yeah, you're terrible at it."


End file.
